


fool for you

by buckybcrnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, F/M, Fluff, Shy Bucky Barnes, sam wilson is kind of a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-26 20:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15008360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybcrnes/pseuds/buckybcrnes
Summary: library!auYour life encounters a major plot twist when the mysterious stranger sitting at the corner of the library steals your heart, and like any good protagonist, you have to fight for love.(Even if it means tackling Sam Wilson to the ground.)





	1. part i.

He was here again.

He always sat in the corner dividing fiction and non-fiction, isolated in his own little island away from the other tables occupied by college students typing away furiously on their laptops or children babbling the words to a Dr. Seuss book they managed to find. His eyebrows were always furrowed as one hand deftly flipped the pages of the daily paper and the other swiftly scribbled on a page of his leather bound notebook in hurried black ink.

What caught your attention the most, however, was his left hand. He usually kept it hidden beneath biker gloves, but one day as you were strolling through the aisles shelving books between King and Kipling, you noticed from the fingers peeking from his sleeve that they were made entirely of metal, the prosthetic material gleaming from the sunlight refracting from the library’s glass windows.

 _Bucky_. You had helped him check out a book last Tuesday (John Knowles's _A Separate Peace_ ), catching his name as it was uttered from Natasha's lips when she returned his library card and bid him a good afternoon. You had handed him back the novel to borrow with a smile, noticing how he was undoubtedly handsome, despite looking rough around the edges and sporting a scruff around his jaw. He had muttered a quiet but polite thank you back before his striking gray-blue eyes met yours, turning to exit the library and leaving you tongue-tied.

He's wearing his usual baseball cap today, the rim tugged down onto his dark hair that falls just below his chin. You stare at him from behind your counter, tracing his form from the tight-fitting red henley and old denim jacket down to the backpack lying beside his combat boots.

Bucky came in every Tuesday and Thursday morning at 10 without fail, entrancing you by the way he would consume each newspaper article or loose-leaf hardcover he had his hands on, drinking in the words and inhaling the stories as he’d run his fingers over the text. It was strange coming to work everyday to check his usual table out of habit and feeling content just standing behind the counter, darting back and forth between glancing at Bucky and helping out the patrons of the library.

The two of you have rarely shared any conversations, save for the little interactions you two had whenever you would help him search a book. Dejected, you knew Bucky would just remain a mysterious enigma that conveniently sat directly in your line of sight, always leaving you wondering how something so intimidating could be so intriguing at the same time.

You are so occupied by your thoughts of him that you hardly notice the way Natasha is nudging at your side nor the patron approaching you waiting to be helped at the reference desk.

“Oh, hello!” You greet the man in front of you. “What can I help you with?”

The tall patron leans over the counter with his arm, drumming his fingers against the mahogany surface.

“I’m looking for a book,” He states. You resist the urge to groan, recognizing him as Sam - a regular at your library that usually always drops by after his morning jog, crewneck soaked in sweat and smirk permanently upturned on his lips as he’d wiggle his eyebrows flirtatiously at Natasha over the counter.

“Well, you’re at the right place,” You feign a cheery chuckle, moving towards your computer. “What’s the title?”

“I don’t know what it’s called,” Sam shrugs.

You raise an eyebrow. “Alright, then who’s the author?”

Sam continues to drum his fingers for a few more seconds before answering, “I don’t know that either.”

You try not to scoff. “Do you know the genre? Fiction? Non-fiction? Sci-fi? Mystery or Poetry?”

“I haven’t read it yet,” Sam admits. Your expression melts into a blank stare, trying to discern whether or not Sam was joking. Judging by his equally serious look, he wasn’t, much to your chagrin.

“You don’t know the title, author, or genre?”

“It’s _your_ job to find it, right?”

“How am I supposed to find something _you_ know nothing about?”

“The cover was black,”

“Yeah, that narrows it down,”

Sam eventually gives up, grumbling about rude library interns and declaring he’d search for it at a bookstore chain instead as he left the library. After a scolding from your boss about making another library goer leave for the umpteenth time this week, you collapse onto your chair and run fingers through your hair exasperatedly as Okoye chuckles at you good-naturedly, sliding you a much needed cup of coffee before she moved back to organize return books.

Opting to ease your mind, you pull out your favorite Jerry Spinelli paperback from your desk drawer, distracting yourself from the white noise of keyboard clicks and hushed whispers by training your eyes steadily on the lines of text and sipping your coffee. That is - until you hear someone clearing their throat behind the counter.

You launch out of your seat, nearly knocking your mug over as you hurriedly brush over your jeans and tuck away a stray hair behind your ear, throwing a friendly smile at Bucky who waits patiently across from your desk. He loosely carries his backpack on with one strap, his cap tucked over his head and ears peeking from unruly brown locks.

“Hi, how can I help you?” You nearly stutter, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He lowers his gaze, pursing his lips so they form a thin line before his stormy gray eyes meets yours again.

“I was, uh, hoping you could help me look for a book. Er, a poem, actually,” Bucky’s voice is low and gruff, sounding almost unsure of himself until you throw him a reassuring grin. “ _Beowulf_.”

“I’ll go ahead and check to see if we have any copies available,” You turn towards your computer, clicking and typing to find zero results. Frowning, you reply, “I’m afraid it seems like someone checked out our last copy.”

Bucky looks almost disheartened so you quickly chirp, “But I can check the circulation desk for you just in case! I’ll be right back.”

You race a few steps over to the circulation desk, ignoring the smug snicker Natasha throws at you and scouring every inch of the carts and piles of books stacked on the tables. The longer you try to search for it, the dumber you feel. You try your best not to blush or look too hysteric searching for the stupid book, but when it becomes painfully obvious that _Beowulf_ was nowhere to be found, you mutter a frustrated, “Dammit,” to yourself before returning in front of Bucky with a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry, I guess it’s not there either,” You apologize.

“Oh,” He says, chewing on his bottom lip and making your heart tug in your chest.

“I could order it for you if you want,” You suggest. “It shouldn’t take more than two weeks to come.”

Bucky glances up and looks contemplative before nodding. You turn back to your monitor to finishing placing the order on his book and then face him again, beaming.

“All done! Two weeks,” You remind him, watching the way the corners of his lips tug upwards and reminding yourself not to stare at him so longingly.

"Thank you," He says shyly. "My name's Bucky."

“I know,” You nod, and when his eyebrows raise slightly, you quickly stammer, “O - Only because you come here so often! And I’ve seen your card when you check out your books.” Bucky blinks silently at you, and you feel like dying on the spot. He begins to step away from the counter, and you want nothing more than to beg for him to stay.

“Thanks again, for the book and everything,” He raises his right hand to give you a weak wave, “I'll, um, I'll see you soon.”

“No problem!” You reply, voice straining and sounding more perky than usual. “Have a nice day!”

You watch his retreating back exit the doors of the library, and when you are sure he has left the premises, you let out a loud, mortified groan that turns heads in your direction. Hearing a snort behind you, you turn to glare at Okoye who tries to hide her laugh with the palm of her hand as Natasha whistles impressively, swiveling her chair next to yours.

“You are  _so_ whipped,” She sneers, and you smack the back of her head with your paperback.

 

/

 

The entire next week, you keep your eyes peeled for a copy of the epic poem, despite the fact that the book most likely wouldn’t be delivered for another couple of days. Each morning, you’d routinely check the book returns and the circulation desk, fingers running over each spine and muttering their titles before sighing at the book’s absence.

“Hey, has - ”

“For the hundredth time, no, _Beowulf_ hasn’t come yet,” Okoye would roll her eyes, never tearing away from the pile of books she was occupied with scanning.

While wheeling the cart of books to be shelved, you peek behind rows of books to sneak glimpses of Bucky in his usual spot, holding a hardcover to your chest as if you're afraid he could hear your thundering heartbeat. He reads a newspaper intently, eyes skimming over pictures with his eyebrows knit in concentration as he’d digest each article, subconsciously mouthing the words to himself so subtly that it almost goes unnoticed. You try to squint to get a better look of the scribbles on the leather notebook strewn beside him on the table until a loud shout startles you.

“Hey, librarian!” Sam calls as he walks toward you. Bucky looks up from his table, eyes darting around the room to identify the source of the sound. You immediately choke back a gasp, ducking behind a shelf of books to hide you from his searching eyes.

Sam crouches down next to you and before he can open his mouth again, you shush him aggressively. You hold the book up in front of your face in a feeble attempt to hide, panicking at the thought of Bucky catching you spying on him from behind the bookshelves.

“I found out the title of the book I need!” Sam says merrily. He looks fresh from another morning jog, and you wrinkle your nose at the sight of his damp shirt and gym shorts.  

You sigh in annoyance. “Okay, so what is it?”

Sam blinks. “Well, technically, I don’t really know the actual title. But I know it starts with a ‘B’!”

“There are a million books out there that start with the letter ‘B’!” You hiss, almost throwing your hands up in frustration. “Is it _Bridge to Terabithia_? _Because of Winn Dixie_? _The Book Thief?_ ”

“No, no, and no,”

“ _Beat the Reaper_?”

“No,”

You roll your eyes, “The Bible?”

Sam rubs his chin. “You know, for a librarian, you’re not very good at this.”

You let out a noise of frustration, standing and tossing the book you’ve been hiding behind into your cart in irritability. Ignoring Sam, you stomp your way out of the aisle, pushing the cart along with you and feeling so irked that you nearly crash it into a man crossing in front of you - Bucky.

“Bucky!” His name escapes your lips in surprise. Bucky’s eyebrows raise when he sees you in all your disheveled glory.

“Hi,” He manages a quiet greeting, tugging the sleeves of his jacket down lower. “I was about to leave. I...I didn’t see you behind the counter.”

“I was just helping out a patron and shelving some books back here,” You say as you smooth down your blouse out of habit. “I’m really sorry,  _Beowulf_  hasn’t been delivered yet.” He tears his eyes away from you almost bashfully. 

“S’okay,” He mutters as he lowers his gaze. Bucky shifts on the soles of his boots, debating whether to leave or not.

“You know, if you’re ever interested while you’re waiting for your order, there’s this book that I really recommend you to read,” You suggest.

Bucky looks up at you with an almost childlike curiosity, gray eyes wide and lips parted when you smile up at him. You motion for him to come with you, your cart of books to be shelved being momentarily forgotten as you lead him to the fiction section. Your finger runs over the spines as you repeat the names of authors to yourself in a quiet whisper, never catching the way Bucky’s gaze softens when he watches you tiptoe over the rows of books.

“Du Bois...Duane...Aha! Dumas!” You pick out a hardcover, grinning at the familiar dark cover with a picture of a French sailor illustrated in the front. “ _The Count of Monte Cristo_ by Alexandre Dumas. It’s one of my favorite books. It’s romantic and full of action and suspense. If you like Beowulf, I think you’ll really like this one.” You hand the novel over to Bucky, who still has a wide-eyed look to him as he accepts it graciously.

“Thank you,” His lips curl up delicately.

 

Bucky returns the book on Thursday that same week, meeting you at the reference desk, and you feel so elated when he approaches you that you do not dare to tell him that he had to return it at the circulation desk next to you and not at your counter. He looks painfully timid when he advances towards you, book in hand.

“Thank you for showing me this book,” His voice is low amidst the quiet library. “I really liked it. I couldn’t put it down.”

You remove it from his hands, chuckling, “I’m glad. It’s full of plot twists, which adds to why I love it so much.”

He nods slowly, murmuring, “Like when Dantès revealed himself to Mondengo.”

Your eyes light up when you reply, “And when Maximillian found out Valentine was still alive!” You hug the book to your chest, positively beaming at him.

Bucky laughs lightly at your enthusiasm, the guttural yet sweet sound erupting from his chest, and you think you might be falling for him all over again.

 

/

 

You count down the days until the end of the two weeks, and you can practically hear Natasha scoff from across the entire library whenever you pass by the Poetry section at least seven times a day. It’s next Tuesday when the book finally arrives, and when you clock into work, your heart races at the thought of finally getting to talk to Bucky again and to see his smile when you hand over the book to him.

“Any new orders come in today, Okoye?” You call towards the circulation desk.

Okoye checks her clipboard, reading each title one by one down the list, “Yeah, I’ve got _Anna Karenina_ ,  _War and Peace_ , _Beowulf_ , _Wuthering Heights_ \- "

“ _Beowulf_ came in? Where is it?” You ask excitedly.

“Already shelved it in the Poetry section,” Okoye throws you a knowing look as you race to said section, strolling down the aisles with a grin on your face.

You scan your eyes across each book, skipping Homer’s Classics and Whitman and Frost before settling on the single copy of _Beowulf_ in the middle of the highest shelf above you. A relieved grin stretches onto your face as you tiptoe to grab the spine, but before your fingers even brush over the cover, a large hand beats you to it and grabs the book from its place. You immediately turn to glare at no other than Sam himself.

“There she is!” Sam cries joyously. He notices you shooting daggers at him as he holds up _Beowulf_ victoriously. “See? This was the book with a black cover that I was talking about. I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”

“This was the book you were searching for? This entire time?” You ask. “You must be mistaken, this book was just ordered.”

Sam shrugs, “Well then, no wonder I couldn’t find it.” Sam turns on his heel to leave, but you dash in front of him and spread your arms out to block his way. He merely raises an eyebrow at the determined frown on your face. You quickly pluck the book out of his hands.

“Hey!”

“You can’t check this book out,” You insist in the most authoritative voice you can. “It’s reserved.”

“Give me back the book,” Sam reaches to take back  _Beowulf_ , but you hide it behind your back, jutting your chin out defensively.

“I need this! Just wait another week or something,”

“No, _I_ need this!”

“Well, I _work_ here so you gotta listen to what I say!”

“I saw it first!”

“I ordered this!”

“I’ve been looking for this book for two weeks!”

“I’ve been looking at this guy for _two months_!”

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” Natasha shushes with her arms crossed at the end of the aisle, glaring at the two of you.

You hadn’t even realized that both you and Sam had raised your voices progressively higher and higher to the point of shouting at each other’s faces, attracting the attention of the other patrons. You swallow nervously, darting your eyes around you and offering an apologetic smile at the wide-eyed library goers and a toddler wailing from your loud arguing. While momentarily distracted, Sam takes this to his advantage and snatches the book from your hands, raising it high above your reach.

“Ha-HA!” Sam taunts and waves the book high above your head as you let out a fierce battle cry, hopping to reach for it while Natasha shushes the both of you again.

You tackle Sam, who falls under your weight as the both of you tumble against the bookshelves. The shelves creak under the weight of the two of you wrestling for the copy of the book until they finally give way, falling backward against the shelves behind it, which topples the next and then the ones following it until all of the shelves begin to whine and fall in a domino effect. Natasha and Okoye watch in horror as the books go flying, the wooden shelves snap in two, and parents scoop up their crying children and students run away screaming their heads off. The library is clouded in dust and books litter the carpeted floor.

“Holy shit,” You gulp. "I am _so_ screwed."

Sam shoots himself up from the ground, grabbing the book from your hands and racing towards the check-out counter. You scramble to get up from the pile of books toppling over you, but by the time you manage to stand on both legs, Sam has already swiped his library card and throws you an arrogant smirk of triumph before strutting out the door, holding _Beowulf_ in his hands as he throws both his arms up in the air and escaping with a loud, “See ya, suckas!”

 


	2. part ii.

After the bookshelf domino fiasco, your job is placed on probation and you can’t properly go through a day in peace without earning a glare from your boss each time you clock in for work. You spend most of your days organizing stacks of books and reshelving them on the newly repaired bookshelves after they were damaged from the chaos of last week.

Your 9 to 5 turns returns to being a monochromatic routine of wheeling carts of books around, scanning returns, and trying to ignore the looks of pity that Natasha and Okoye throw at you every now and then. Bucky hasn’t returned for an entire week, and you dread the day you have to tell him that Sam stole his book from right under your nose. Each hour passes by slower than the last, and you’re growing bored out of your mind sitting behind the circulation desk with no pretty gray eyes, long dark hair, or nimble silver fingers to ogle at.

“You know, when you’re not too busy drooling over him, I’m pretty sure that Bucky guy has got his eyes on you, too,” Natasha offers a knowing smile from beside you.

You sigh, propping your chin up to lean on your arm, scanning your eyes over the library landscape lethargically. “I doubt it. He’s probably only looking this way because he’s disappointed that I haven’t even gotten _Beowulf_ for him yet.”

Natasha shrugs. “I don’t think it’s necessarily the book he’s interested in. Maybe it’s you.”

You merely roll your eyes at her efforts to distract you, even if you were grateful that she was trying her best to cheer you up. After dealing with a couple of rowdy teenagers smacking their gum between their teeth loudly as they ordered you to search for books for their summer reading course, you plop back down on your chair, closing your eyes and running your hand over your face in exhaustion, wanting nothing more but to go home and hide beneath your sheets.

You hear someone clear their throat from behind the counter, and you drawl, “Can I help you?” with a flat tone. You look up tiredly before immediately widening your eyes, nearly jumping out of your chair and trying calm your beating heart.

“Bucky,” You try to catch your breath staring at the man opposite of you.

Bucky’s lips are pursed and his eyebrows slightly furrow as he slowly asks, “Sorry, did I come at a bad time?”

“Not at all!” You respond, almost a bit too eagerly. “What can I help you with?”

Bucky looks down shyly to avert his eyes from your own.

“I have a book to return,” He admits. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve got a hefty late fee to pay.”

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a thin paperback, placing it in front of you on the counter. Before he can pull away, you immediately cover his hand on the book cover with your own, and Bucky gulps with wide eyes when he looks up to meet your disappointed gaze.

“But first - I am so, so sorry, Bucky,” You apologize profusely. “I ordered _Beowulf_ for you and it came just in time but another stupid guy got his hands on it before I could give it to you and I - ”

Your voice trails off when you realize what book Bucky has placed in front of you to return. A book with a black cover. Your fingers run over the title which starts with a “B”. _Beowulf_.

“I don’t understand,” You mumble, and it is your turn to knit your eyebrows. “I ordered this for you. How did you get it?”

“I, um, actually had this copy the entire time,”

“But I thought this book was already checked out by someone who never returned it,” You quickly scoot over to your computer, typing up the title and skimming your eyes over to analyze the name registered under the book. “It was checked out by a James Buchanan Barnes over two months ago.”

Bucky manages a timid smile. “That’s my name. ‘Bucky’ is a nickname my friends call me.”

You blink at him, still having trouble trying to piece things together. “But...if you have your own copy of _Beowulf_ that you checked out, then why did you ask me to order another copy for you?”

“You’re going to think I’m so stupid for doing this,” He grumbles sheepishly, cheeks heating up as he lowers his head so his baseball cap can hide his rosy cheeks and how he nervously bites on his bottom lip. “I...I asked you to order it for me because I wanted an excuse to talk to you. And I knew if I asked for a book you already had available, I wouldn’t be able to again. So I checked _Beowulf_ out months earlier so I could ask you to order me a copy, to talk to you, and...to get to know you better.”

Your jaw goes slack, and you can hear Natasha and Okoye stifling their giggles behind you. “You mean...you did all that just so you could talk to me?”

Bucky blushes and you think your heart is soaring. “I know that was - that was stupid of me. Sorry.” He swallows and looks like he is preparing to leave in humiliation, but you immediately reach forward to grab his left arm. You can feel his metal fingers trembling beneath your own, and Bucky expects you to shy away in horror, but you offer him a gentle smile instead.

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” You laugh. “Because all this time, I was try to talk to _you_.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Really?”

You nod. “I’ve been sticking around this library for so long because I wanted to see you. And this whole time you were here to see _me_?”

Bucky reciprocates your nod with flushed cheeks. “And I was hoping...Would you like to go out with me sometime? For coffee or lunch?”

“Of course I would,” You feel breathless, and Bucky averts his eyes bashfully at your smile that shines brighter than the summer sun reflecting off the library’s glass windows that bathe the room in a warm glow. “But just because you’re taking me out doesn’t mean you can get out of this overdue fee.”

“Damn,” Bucky’s lips tug into a smile as he fishes out his wallet from his denim jean pocket.

Before he can hand over a couple of bills or swipe his card, the library doors burst open, revealing Sam in his sweaty gym shorts and t-shirt. He has the copy of _Beowulf_ you ordered wedged under his arm, and he storms to you behind the circulation desk. He throws the book onto the counter and Bucky raises an eyebrow at him.

“Let me just say, this book is one of the most confusing things I’ve ever read,” Sam complains. “And do these guys even know how to speak proper English?”

Sam notices Bucky’s hands placed on his own copy of the book and whispers lowly to him, “Dude, listen to my advice: don’t check this out. Unless you actually enjoy this literature crap or want to woo a girl.” Sam spits out the word “literature” as if it was some disgusting vegetable he coughed from the back of his throat before turning to leave, winking suggestively at Natasha (who glares at him in return) and exiting the library.

“So,” You chuckle. “Did you check this specific book out just to impress me?”

“Nah, I actually enjoy reading,” Bucky shrugs, and with a shy smile, “I just wanted to impress  _you_ more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys liked it!!  
> tumblr: @buckybqrnes  
> twitter: @jasontoqq


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